


Jesse's Girl

by spockulative



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, My First AO3 Post, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Romantic Comedy, any character i want is alive, fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockulative/pseuds/spockulative
Summary: With Republic citizens’ plummeting opinion of the war, and more and more systems threatening to withdraw their support, an artist is commissioned to help bolster the GAR in the eyes of the public.As the tale progresses, a harried assistant meets and grows close to several clone troopers. Feelings emerge, awkwardness ensues, and there are misunderstandings and jealousies galore.
Relationships: CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives & Original Character(s), CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives/Original Character(s), CT-5597 | Jesse/Original Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was roughly based on Rick Springfield’s song “Jessie’s Girl” and just…..spiraled from there.

“Are you happy to be heading home?”

Rex glanced back at his commander, who, to her credit, immediately noticed her error. “Well, not _home_ per se, but at least getting a break?”

Rex snorted. “Trying to keep the boys in line on downtime is hardly a break.”

Ahsoka clapped him on the shoulder. “It can’t be all that bad!”

Images flickered through his mind: Hevy and Cutup, blackout drunk. Hardcase and Jesse sheepishly waving to him through the bars of their cell. Droidbait running up the side of the Jedi Temple (and sliding back down before he got ten feet). Kix exacerbated to near tears. Echo coming back to the barracks with a black eye and a rather large amount of credits. The Ninth-Hour Paint Incident. He shook his head. “It is.”

“Welllll….if I can help you in between my trainings and meditations at the Temple, I will!” Rex had no doubt of this; as much as the Jedi mystified him, he knew that meditation was not this particular Jedi’s strong suit, nor her preference.

“Looking forward to it, Commander.”

“Happy to help!” Ahsoka snapped a salute and turned to leave. She had done it on the wrong side, but Rex decided it would be funnier not to correct her and see where it led. She was nearly out the door before she hit her head with the heel of her palm. “I almost forgot! Rex, Anakin told me to tell you to pick some of your men for a special project while we’re on Coruscant.”

Rex felt a flicker of anxiety. Special project? On Coruscant? This was either going to be dangerous or… “What kind of special project?”

~*~*~*~

A standard week prior, a committee was over an hour into their discussion.

“It’s an interesting idea.” The senator removed his hand from where it had been stroking his chin. “But will it achieve what we want it to?”

“I think it will,” said Senator Chuchi. “What we need is to remind people not only why we fight, but _who_ fights for us. And that they deserve our support.”

“Hear, hear!” The meeting room burst into applause, as the Committee for the Preservation of the War Effort in the Eyes of the People approached the end of its time slot. Riyo Chuchi and Padmé Amidala shared a conspiratorial glance. While on its surface, the proposal was nothing more than creating wartime propaganda, both senators were of the mind that the project would help individualize & humanize the clone troopers in the minds of Republic citizens, and thus would help pave the way for clone rights. It was a long game, but they were prepared to play it.

Senator Organa spoke up. “Now that we are clearly in agreement on the proposed measure, are there any suggestions as to who should carry them out?”

“We could try the Aexrin-“

“No, they have too many Separatist ties.”

“What about-“

The meeting room turned into a cacophony. Artist after artist was proposed, only to be immediately shut down for one reason or another.

“MEESA HAS AN IDEA.” Jar-Jar Binks’ voice cut through the noise. All turned to him in somewhat stunned silence. Most in the Senate put up with Jar-Jar in varying degrees of success and politeness, but almost no one thought he was…ahem…particularly good. At anything. And this is coming from the Galactic Senate, where incompetency and corruption were constantly battling for supremacy.

Jar-Jar stood grandly, and promptly tripped. Senator Mallin bit the inside of his cheek and struggled not to laugh. Senator Binks was remarkable, if nothing else for his clumsiness. Said senator recovered, and addressed the room. “Meesa would like to propose Cesy Jobar as artist for da Republic.”

Senator G’k’rr’l gave a series of whistles and clicks, which C-3PO translated. “ _I had the pleasure of witnessing Jobar’s work on the duneworms in exhibit a few years ago. Her talent is bar none. I second Senator Binks.”_

“Senator Amidala, isn’t Cesy Jobar from Naboo? What do you think?” Padmé was thoughtful. Despite the fact that she had been working on this project in an unofficial capacity for some time, she was entirely unprepared for Jar-Jar’s suggestion. She had planned to propose another artist, one from Mon Cala, who was rapidly ascending to fame and had a good body of work. And to be honest, she was a little surprised that Jar-Jar knew anything about the galactic art scene, let alone enough to have an idea—a _good_ idea. “She hasn’t worked from Naboo for a while, but she is well-known, and very talented. Her style would lend itself well to the project.” Jobar was a bit of a radical, but that might be exactly what they needed. And her current popularity amongst the galactic elite didn’t hurt.

In the end, the committee decided that Jobar was the right person for the job. And, within the week, a light cruiser entered Coruscant airspace.

“Prepare for docking,” came a voice over the intercom. Vera Jobar looked over at her cousin, who was busying herself with looking out the viewport and fiddling with a datapad.

“Are you ready?” Cesy gave no indication of having heard, and continued to fixate on something that her assistant could only guess at. Vera waited patiently. Eventually, Cesy spoke.

“Clouds.” Vera raised an eyebrow. Today wasn’t going to be a talkative day, apparently. It was just as well. Cesy Jobar was a force to be reckoned with any day, but when she was feeling chattery it was next to impossible to contain. It made public relations a nightmare. But the artist continued. “They are…strong. Sharp.” She turned to Vera, a glint in her eye. “They hide themselves in the guise of harmless gasses, scarcely worth a glance, but NO!” She whirled back to the viewport and pressed her face against it. “At any moment, they are ready to strike.”

As if on cue, a brief flash illuminated the cabin, followed by a resounding crack of thunder. Vera checked the schedule. They were slightly behind. Hopefully the storm wouldn’t cause too many problems. At this rate, they’d have to rush through getting the supplies into the studio she had reserved if they wanted to meet with the senators in time. And if she knew anything, she knew that they would value punctuality. She took a deep breath. It would all work out. She had given them an hour of buffer time, it would be enough. She hoped.

Miraculously, the weather held until they had unloaded the last box. In almost record time, they had located the studio and unloaded their supplies. Their apartment was just next door, and Vera flicked the light on as she entered. It was small, but it was clean. She gave the rooms a once-over, and laid Cesy’s blanket on her cousin’s bed. There was still a little bit of time before she had to wrangle her cousin into a couple hours of meetings, so she used the refresher and changed into a set of clean clothes.

Feeling much more presentable, Vera went back into the studio, where she had left Cesy unpacking her paints. The paints were still there, neatly laid out in order of hue and viscosity. A few rags were already scattered around the room. A large crate in the center of the room was opened, drapings of various colors spilling over the side. But the artist was gone.

“Kriff.”

Vera turned on her heels and bolted back into the apartment. Maybe she had gotten past her? But in her heart of hearts, she already knew that it was futile. “Cesy?” Closet, empty. “Cesy?” Refresher, empty. “Cesy?” Kitchen, living space, empty. “Cesy?!” Both bedrooms, empty. Back to the studio. “Cesy?!”

“Oh hey!” Cesy was standing in the middle of the room, absolutely soaked through. In one hand she held a bouquet of wilted flowers, in the other, what looked like a chunk of duracrete. “Check these out.” She lifted her treasures out and up, as if offering them to the gods. Then she let them go. They fell with a swish and a thunk, respectively. “Incredible.” She looked at her cousin. “I believe this bodes well for our coming journey.” She wrinkled her nose. “When do we have to leave again?”

Vera blinked and tried not to lose her mind. “In five minutes. You need to get ready.”

“Oh.” Cesy paused for a moment, then began to survey the room. This was the wrong track, but Vera didn’t have the time to let her sort it out herself.

“You don’t need your paints; we’ll get them later. You need to get dressed.” She hustled her cousin back into the apartment, and shoved her into the refresher. “Strip. And brush your hair.” Then she went through their luggage. Smock. Smock. Dirty smock. Stained smock. Underwear! Clean, fortunately. Vera set that one aside and continued to hunt. By the time Cesy had finished combing her hair out, Vera had supplied her with a clean, dry outfit, complete with an elegant coat in a Nubian design. “Let’s go.” And off they went.

“Good afternoon. We have an appointment with Senator Amidala.” The guard inspected the Jobars’ credentials, then hit his comm.

“I’ve got Jobar here.” He cocked his head, listening to his helmet’s interface, then straightened. “Alright, you’re clear. Up the stairs, to the left.” He waved them through. On the other side, they were greeted by a golden protocol droid.

“Good day. I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. You must be Cesy and Vera Jobar.”

Vera inclined her head. After a moment’s pause, Cesy did the same. “We are indeed. I trust you are here to guide us to the Senator?”

“Right this way.” C-3PO led them down winding hallways, chattering incessantly. Every now and then Vera had to backtrack to grab her cousin, inevitably fascinated by something or other. In a building meant to bring the galaxy together, there was a great deal to be distracted by.

Finally, they reached the door to Senator Amidala’s offices. The door opened with a soft whirr, and the women followed the protocol droid inside. Amidala was seated behind her desk, but rose to greet her visitors.

“Senator Amidala,” said C-3PO. “May I present Artist-in-Residence Cesy Jobar, and her assistant, Vera Jobar.”

“I am at your service.” Cesy gave a deep bow. “We will do great things together.”

Padmé smiled. “It is so good to meet you. I trust you had a pleasant voyage?” Vera assured her that yes, their voyage was peaceful, and their accommodations were exactly what they required.

She led them over to a sitting area, where another senator rose to greet them. Padmé introduced Riyo Chuchi and the Jobars to each other, then invited them all to sit down. “I’m afraid that we are still expecting one more person before we can truly get started. May I offer you some refreshments?”

A few minutes into their cakes and light chit-chat, a clatter announced the last of their party. Cesy jumped to her feet. “Jar-Jar!”

Jar-Jar was ecstatic. “Cesy! Issa so good to see you!”

She ran forward to embrace the Gungan. While they were both bouncing excitedly, Riyo turned to Vera in slight bewilderment. “I take it they know each other?”

Vera nodded. “Jar-Jar Binks was instrumental in her studies on Gungan cuisine. He was an invaluable guide, and is a good friend.” She smiled. “As Cesy likes to say, they are kindred spirits.”

The spirits in question had now calmed down enough to join the group in a pleasant, if still somewhat exuberant, manner. Vera was relieved. For all her eccentricities, Cesy could hold her own in polite society, but it drained her. Having a good friend nearby helped.

“So, let’s get to business.” They all reseated themselves. Vera pulled a case out of her bag, and handed it to Cesy, who then set it on the low table and opened it.

“I’ve been thinking about your request,” Cesy said. “And I’ve pulled together some conceptual art, as well as highlighted some of my past work that I believe is conducive to your intentions.”

As the senators perused the prints in front of them, the artist continued. “My artistic ethos is to draw attention to those things that are frequently overlooked, and have them be appreciated for their true nature. There is so much richness and intensity in this galaxy, if we only bother to look. Most don’t. I intend to help with that.”

"Now, my thought," Cesy grabbed a few select images and brought them to the top of the pile scattered over the table, “was to create a series of paintings that revolve around specific battalions, even soldiers, rather than the army as a whole.”

Cesy shuffled the flimsi a bit more, and Vera took that as her signal. “Republic citizens already know about their army as a concept. In highlighting individuals, they can come to a greater appreciation of the whole.”

Padmé and Riyo glanced at each other. This was exactly what they were hoping for. It was almost too good to be true. They then looked over at Jar-Jar, who was only half-listening and instead looking through the images with considerable interest. He crowed upon finding a striking image of bright blues and greens, ostentatious curves, and a quiet resplendence. “Dissa da tongue-grabbin!”

“Yes! It was incredible to see them in their natural habitat, as well as the way in which you’d hunt for them.”

Well, it was Jar-Jar. It was about time that his ridiculous amount of dumb luck rubbed off on them. They’d take what they could get.

As her cousin and Jar-Jar continued to reminisce, Vera explained. “It’s a slug-beetle; Gungan delicacy. It only lives—“ she paused, not quite able to remember. She turned to ask Cesy, but Padmé knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Under the perlote tree, yes? Native to Naboo?”

Vera looked at her in astonishment. “Yes. It’s not very common. How did you know?”

“Ah, it’s a long story.”

Riyo Chuchi placed the poster she was holding back down on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “So. What can we do to help you accomplish this?”

Vera was prepared. “We’ll need interviews with some representatives from various battalions. Models would be great, but we understand if that’s not feasible. I’ve drawn up a list of some things that would be useful to have for reference purposes.” She handed a datapad over to the senators.

Padmé quirked an eyebrow. “A DC-17?”

“It doesn’t have to be loaded. Actually,” Vera shot a quick glance towards the end of the seating area, where Jar-Jar was currently on the floor, trying to reach a piece of flimsi that he had dropped, and Cesy was trying to help him. It was obvious that all they were doing was getting in each other’s way. The assistant looked back at the women. “It would be preferable if there was no live ammunition.”

At that, Cesy bolted upright. “No! It is important to experience the object in it’s fullness!”

“Perhaps, a demonstration?” Riyo suggested. “I’m sure Commander Fox could facilitate that.”

“That would be more than enough, thank you.” Vera shot her cousin a look, and any protest quickly died. “Back to the subjects. We will need to interview some troopers, get to know them a little.”

Cesy cut in. “It’s an important part of my process.”

“We don’t really have any contacts within the GAR. Could we trust you to facilitate some meetings?”

“Of course. I already have a few in mind.” Padmé smiled. “In fact, the 501st Legion is due planetside in the next couple of days. I’m friends with the general, I’m sure they would be happy to help.”

As they continued to iron out the details of the project, Cesy smiled. Good things would come of this, she just knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex is tasked with finding contributors to the project. Fives & the rest cause problems and suffer the consequences. Vera & Cesy have a quiet moment before the onslaught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how well the song lyrics chapter titles are working but for now I'll continue to roll with it. Enjoy!

Rex rubbed his temples and inhaled sharply through his nose. _Of all the-_

“You okay there, Rexster?”

“Commander.”

“Yes.”

“Why must the Senate be the way that it is?”

Ahsoka shrugged. “Beats me. But Master Skywalker said that this was pretty important.” She seemed to weigh something before continuing. “Of course, that could be because Senator Amidala is sponsoring this project.”

Oh. Well, in that case. Rex exhaled through his mouth. It wasn’t a _sigh_ so much as…a breathing exercise. Yes. Exactly. Just a breathing exercise. “I’ll pick some men out.”

Ahsoka grinned. “You’re the best!” Her commlink beeped. “Oops, gotta go. See ya!” And with that, the padawan ran out of the room, leaving Rex to decide the best course of action.

He had some thoughts, of course. Voluntelling some of the more boisterous clones for the project would get them out of his hair (as little of it as there was) for a while, but on the other hand would probably not endear the 501st to the senate lackey who had been commissioned, and is that _really_ what he wanted? He rolled his head to one side, then the other, stretching his neck. He liked to think he was good at tactical decision-making, but that was on the battlefield. This was a different arena altogether. Still.

A loud crash interrupted his musings, and he left the small conference room he had been in at a run. Down the hallway, quick right, and— He found Droidbait and Fives, each liberally spattered with paint, looking around at the catastrophe. A quarter of the hallway was blue. A door opened just then, and Echo stepped out. His motion caused one last paint bucket to tip precariously and fall over, splashing him with blue as well. Behind him was the sound of Cutup’s laughter.

“What is going on here?!”

Three heads jerked in his direction. Droidbait had the sense to look mildly sheepish, but Fives was biting back a smile and not succeeding. Echo was non-plussed. Cutup fell silent.

This was going to be the death of him, Rex was sure of it. Not the droids, not the Sith, not the war, not even the general throwing him off things, but the pure unadulterated stress the overgrown children under his command caused him.

“Your captain is present, at attention!”

The troopers obeyed swiftly.

“Get out here, Cutup.”

“Sir, yes sir!” He ran out and stood stiffly next to Echo.

Rex composed himself for half a beat. “You will be cleaning this up.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“You will then clean the barracks refreshers, and they had better be spotless.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“And when we arrive on Coruscant, you will help with the Senate’s new project. I will brief you in detail later. Dismissed!”

Several grueling hours of labor later, four-fifths of the Domino squad arrived for their briefing.

Rex looked up from his datapad. “Men, I’m sure you’ve seen the reports. Many Republic citizens don’t like the war, and they choose to take it out on us. On brothers.” He looked solemnly around at the troopers in front of him to underscore his point. “As such, the senate has seen fit to hire an artist to paint the GAR in a better light.”

“Men, you will be representing the 501st in a public relations campaign.”

Silence. The brothers looked dubious.

“So, what does that mean, exactly?” Droidbait ventured.

Rex checked his datapad. “Eh, interviews and demonstrations, mostly.”

“What kind of demonstrations?”

He’d avoided it as long as he could. There was no way to talk about this without it being awkward. “Armor, perhaps. Weapons, maybe. Uh, modeling, to be specific.”

Fives looked thrilled. Of course he would, the attention-seeking bastard. “Modeling?”

“Yeah, you stand for hours and do whatever the person in charge wants.”

Cutup couldn’t resist. “So, what we’ve been doing every day of our lives?” Rex ignored him.

Not all of the squad was as pleased as Fives, who was practically preening. Echo gave him a dirty look. “We are soldiers! Not…” Echo was struggling for words. “Show-banthas!” Based on his expression, Droidbait seemed inclined to agree, though he held his tongue.

Fives punched Echo in the shoulder. “Ah, come on, how bad could it be?” A thought seemed to strike him just then. “Wait, when you say ‘hours’—how long are we talking?”

Rex lifted a single shoulder. “Could be half a day, could be your entire leave. I don’t really know.” He turned deadly serious. “You will do whatever they need, and you will _behave_ and you will represent the 501st well.” Fives didn’t look quite as thrilled now, as the prospect of his precious leave time quickly slipping though his fingers dawned on him.

“Any questions?”

“Who’s the artist?”

Rex looked at the file. “Says here it’s Cesy Jobar.”

That didn’t appear to ring any bells. After a few more mundane questions, Rex got fed up and said he’d send them a copy of the press release.

The next day, Domino squad could be found lounging in their barracks, keeping themselves busy while waiting for the last leg of their journey to be over.

Fives hummed noncommittally. “You know, this project might not be all that bad.”

Echo looked suspicious. “And why do you say that?”

“This Jobar character is interesting.” He flipped his datapad around and showed it to his brother, who looked at the picture, scanned the article briefly, and handed the ‘pad back.

“If by interesting you mean attractive, sure. But if you’d bothered to read the caption you’d know that that’s not who the GAR commissioned.”

Fives frowned and looked at the article again. Oh. Some minor celebrity who had been at the gallery show on Orto Ryl. Whatever. He flopped down on his cot and stared at the bunk above him. “So what do you want to do on leave anyway?”

Echo shrugged. “Get some rest, eat some food,” he looked sharply at Fives, “not go to jail thanks to your shenanigans.”

“Hey!” Fives rolled out of bed and stood, looking imperiously at Echo. “Don’t pin it all on me; you wanted to graffiti the senate building too.”

Echo had no good rebuttal, as Fives was absolutely correct in saying they should share equal blame, so he kept polishing his shoulder plate. Droidbait spoke up from the corner.

“I’m getting the feeling that we should probably stay away from paint-based ideas for the time being.”

Hevy snorted. He hadn’t been involved in the last Domino squad escapade, so he had also escaped the dubious honor of spending an as-yet-unknown amount of his leave doing whatever the heck this senate-commissioned artist weirdo wanted them to do. “Good luck with that.”

Cutup hit him with a pillow. Fives just hit him. Echo rolled his eyes and scooted his armor and cleaning supplies further away from the impromptu bout. The door slid open and a few more troopers came through.

“Ha! Pillow fight!” Hardcase threw himself into the fray with gusto. Kix looked heavenward, silently pleading with the powers-that-be to save his brothers from their own stupidity, and let the rest of their trip be injury-free. As much as he enjoyed patching his brothers up, he would prefer it even more if they would stop being injured in the first place. Although it was better injured than dead. Kix shook his head minutely to restart his brain, ending that line of thought, and took a seat on the cot next to Jesse, watching Echo clean.

“Heard about your assignment.”

Echo grunted in response.

Jesse leaned back on his elbows. “Don’t give me that, you’re a _model_ now. Practically a celebrity!”

He was pointedly ignored. Kix nudged Echo’s shoulder. “It won’t be bad, vod. Sooner you do it, sooner you get it over with.”

“Why does it sound like we’re in the med bay right now?”

“Hey, it’s pretty universal advice!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, sure.” Jesse jumped up. “I’m hungry. Anyone else want to head to the mess?” A chorus of agreements came, and together they left for a last meal together before planetfall.

~*~*~*~

Vera rubbed her temples. It had been a long day. They had just finished the last of their meetings, and were now eating takeout at their tiny kitchen table. Tomorrow they were slated to meet with the first of many battalions. She hoped it would go well.

Cesy did not seem so concerned about the minutiae of the future, but kept her mind on the present. She surveyed the tiny fruits and noodles she had arranged _just so_ on her plate. Her fingers twitched in the direction of her bag, but didn’t actually get up and leave. The artist speared one fruit with her utensil, popped it in her mouth, and continued to survey her plate while chewing.

“What are you thinking about?”

Cesy finished chewing and swallowed. “The color orange.”

“But…”

Nothing on the plate was orange. Cesy knew that though, and knew her cousin’s protest. She pointed her fork in her general direction. “Exactly.” She motioned towards their plates. “How would our perception and enjoyment of this food in front of us differ if it included the color orange?”

Vera didn’t have an answer to that, but she was about 65% sure it was a rhetorical question. She didn’t press further, and Cesy lapsed into silence.

“I’m thinking of an early bedtime. We have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll pick up some groceries tomorrow; is there anything in particular you would like?”

“Some kind of bread. And Nautolan food; some of the fish from their southern region. Those are good. And nerf.”

Vera quickly made some notes, then closed off her datapad. “I’m going to bed. Need anything before I go?”

Cesy shook her head.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Vera cautioned. “There will be plenty of work tomorrow.”

“Inspiration waits for no one!” Cesy protested.

“Are you feeling particularly inspired now?”

After a moment’s reflection, Cesy responded. “No.”

“Best get some rest then.”

Vera left her cousin to her meal and readied herself for bed. Before she climbed under the covers, she double-checked the schedule and her alarm. Tomorrow would come soon, and she had to be ready.

~*~*~*~

The alarm went off, and the day began. Cesy was already awake, and practically vibrating with excitement.

“The inspiration is palpable! Genius awaits!” She crammed the rest of her breakfast roll into her mouth, and hadn’t even finished chewing before she left the table, presumably to check on her supplies. Vera quickly dressed and ate, and made sure her own things were in order before she grabbed Cesy’s coat and locked the door.

She went into the studio, and found Cesy tucking a pad of flimsi and some drawing implements into a satchel.

“Ready?” She handed Cesy her coat. Her cousin grinned and put it on, slinging the strap of the satchel over her shoulder.

“Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The clones and the gals will meet each other next chapter! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure begins! (Chaos required). The Jobars meet an anxious driver and several clone troopers. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm starting to get a better grip on some of these characters, but the story keeps expanding. (I think this is a good thing, but we'll see.)

The Jobars made their way from the complex that housed their apartment and studio to a nearby landing pad. Vera hailed a taxi.

“Where to?” the Rodian pilot asked.

“Section 12 military base, please.”

The Rodian turned in his seat to look at them, surprise evident on his face. “You lot seem much too proper for that.”

Vera fixed him with a steely look. “What are you implying?”

“Ah…nothing, never mind.” The driver turned back around. “It’ll cost extra.”

“Why?” She was taken aback. Going to a military base was not an unreasonable request, at least she didn’t think so.

“Hazard pay.” The driver glanced back at them. “I’m not going to stick around for whatever protest you’re going to either. Those are always a mess.” He muttered the last, turning back.

“We’re not going to a protest—we have a meeting. They’re expecting us.”

The Rodian did not look convinced.

“Listen, if it’s that much of a concern to you, just drop us off a couple of blocks away. We’ll walk.”

In the end, that’s what they did. As they reached the public landing platform, the driver seemed anxious, and was glancing around. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He held out his hand. “Twenty-five.”

Vera fished in her pockets and put a few credit chips into their driver’s palm. As soon as the women disembarked, he sped away. Vera frowned. That whole interaction had been strange. She said as much to Cesy, who considered it.

“I thought he was nice,” was her final verdict.

“Didn’t you find him…rather jumpy?”

“ _I’m_ jumpy,” was Cesy’s response. She thought some more. “I’m also strange, so I guess you’re right.” She surveyed the street signed. “Which way?”

Vera checked. “This one.” She pointed down one of the pathways. “And we’re running short on time, so no getting distracted,” she sternly instructed her cousin.

To her credit, Cesy did a remarkable job of focusing on the task at hand, and Vera only had to drag her away twice, once from a colorful shop window, and the other from a non-descript lamp post. With minutes to spare, they reached the entrance of the base. The helmeted visors of the guards swiveled, following their movements. It was slightly unnerving. Vera knew they were expected, but with their armor, faceless masks, and their blasters, the troopers were more than a little intimidating. The copious media coverage of their battle exploits and aggressiveness did not help ease her apprehension. She had seen the news reports in passing, but had done extensive research in the week preceding preparation for Cesy’s latest project.

It didn’t look good. Cesy would have to make something truly remarkable to shift public perception. And yes, Vera knew that the reports were likely biased, as was all media, and even more so in wartime, but… No. They were here and they had a job to do. The clones were just people, heavily genetically-modified copies of a bounty hunter, sure, but people nonetheless. Couldn’t be any worse than working with the Xi’rio’L…right?

Cesy did not seem to share Vera’s qualms at all, but then she rarely did. It was her unique perspective on the galaxy that people paid to see. Vera took care of the practical side of things, and Cesy…Cesy experienced the world with awe. And right now she was _excited._ She marched up to the guard post with confidence.

“State your name and business.” The clone’s voice, sifted through his helmet’s vocabulators, was flat.

“Cesy Jobar, here to meet with representatives from the 501st.”

The trooper looked behind her.

“And assistant,” said Vera, answering the unspoken question. The trooper was silent a moment and looked down, checking something neither of them could see. He turned his head back to the women.

“Identification, please.”

Vera slid him their ID datacards. He examined them carefully. “Where are they expecting you?”

“Piian Hall.”

Apparently satisfied, he handed the datacards back. He rummaged in a drawer Vera couldn’t see, and then presented two green badges. “Visitor pass. Put ‘em on.”

They grabbed them and clipped the magnetic badges onto their coats. The guardsman unlocked the gate and let them through.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

Vera shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Okay. So,” the trooper turned around and gestured towards a large building. “You’ll want to head behind that building there, then take a right at that road. It’s about a five-minute walk straight down, you’ll go past a couple hangars, then you’ll take a right at the barracks there, a left, another right at the—” He dropped off. “Never mind. It’ll be easier to show you.” He turned and hailed a pair of troopers passing by on patrol.

“Hey, troopers!” They stopped, and one of them pointed at himself questioningly. “Yeah, you two. Get over here.”

“Yessir.” They jogged over.

“Will one of you escort these two to Piian Hall?” He gestured to the Jobars. “They don’t know where they’re going and I’d rather not have lost civvies wandering around.”

Privately, Vera felt the way he worded it was a little rude, but the sentiment was definitely understandable.

“Sure, ‘37 would love to.” One of the troopers shoved the other forward slightly and then immediately left, presumably to finish the patrol. Vera saw him reach up and touch something on his helmet. The trooper in front of them did the same, although she didn’t head a word out of either of them. She looked back at the trooper who had admitted them, but he had already returned to his post. He was that eager to be rid of them then? She tried not to take his unfriendly demeanor personally, or as a foreboding sign for what was to come. Not everyone had to like her or Cesy, certainly, but it did make things easier to have a good working relationship. Especially on a project such as this.

Their guide was looking at his departing brother when he reached up, touched the side of his helmet again, and turned back to them. “Alright, this way sirs.” He stopped. “Uh, I mean, ma’ams.” He sounded ever so slightly sheepish.

Vera waved her hand, brushing the gaffe off. “Don’t worry about it. You’re guiding us to Piian Hall, right?”

“Yes.” The trooper started walking and gestured towards the Jobars to follow.

He lead them around the first massive building. The silence felt oppressive. It wasn’t silent, not really, the sounds of machinery and footsteps reverberating through the complex, but Vera still felt awkward. Even after years of working with Cesy, going to all sorts of places and meeting with all sorts of people, it wasn’t uncommon to feel out of place. She glanced at Cesy, wanting to gauge how her cousin was reacting, and was in time to see her start to drift towards an abandoned speeder in fasciation. Vera grabbed her elbow and hissed. “Keep it together.”

The trooper slowed and looked back at them. “Did you say something?”

Cesy gave him a disarming smile. “Sorry, my fault.” She jabbed her thumb in the direction of the speeder. “That has very interesting lines.”

“Uh.” The trooper seemed at a loss for words. “Sure.” He clearly had no idea what Cesy was talking about. Vera felt bad for him (and anxious to get to the meeting on time) so she shifted the conversation in another direction.

“While we’re walking, would you mind telling us about yourself, trooper? What’s your name?”

“CT-84-4237.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean your designation. What’s your name?”

The trooper tossed a glance in her direction but didn’t say anything. Vera couldn’t help but feel that she had overstepped some unspoken rule, and tried to backtrack. She was supposed to be the poised, tactful one in their duo, and if _she_ started rubbing people the wrong way, well. That would not be good.

“My apologies, I’m afraid I’m not very well versed in the customs of—” she cut herself off. If felt odd, and somewhat rude, to just say “clones.” “—of those of you in the army,” she finished. “If your names are something private, I understand.”

“It’s not that.” The trooper shifted his hold on his blaster. “I…just don’t have one yet.”

Oh. That was interesting. “How, or when, do you get your name? Do you get a name?” From her research she had been under the impression that clones did have names, or at least their officers did. “Are you comfortable sharing?”

The trooper huffed a laugh. “Yeah, it’s fine.” As they walked along, him now more in step with them than leading, he explained how the clone troopers like himself had numerical designations to keep them straight when they were decanted. (“It’s sort of like being born, I guess. When we got out of our growth tubes,” he explained when Vera asked him to elaborate.) They either chose their names themselves or were dubbed by their brothers, although the power to veto went to each individual. “We get our names when it’s right. I guess.” He had gone on at some length, and now seemed embarrassed by how much he had talked. Vera was glad that he had opened up, both because she had learned new information and because he had been so friendly, and was just about to tell him so when Cesy spoke up.

“That is—” Cesy has stopped walking and was looking into the middle distance. “incredible.” She whirled back around, joyous light in her eyes. “The custom screams,” she took a deep breath and clenched her fist dramatically, “purpose.” She then relaxed and grinned at the trooper. “It really allows your individuality to shine through!”

“Oh, uh, thanks!” He seemed both pleased and baffled. “I think.”

“Now tell me,” Cesy said in a confidential tone, “what are your opinions on concave versus convex shapes?”

“Uh…” the poor trooper (‘37, Vera mentally had begun to call him, and would until she knew his name) clearly had no idea how to respond. To be fair, once Cesy started asking those kinds of questions, few did. Vera glanced at her chrono.

“Not to interrupt,” (she most certainly meant to interrupt) “but shouldn’t we be reaching the Hall soon?”

“Oh, banthash—” ’37 cut himself off. He cast around, as if just realizing where he was. “Sorry, we, uh, walked right past it.” He lifted one hand to rub the back of his neck. If he hadn’t been embarrassed before, he definitely was now. Privately, Vera thought it was kind of cute. Far from a hardened soldier, he now reminded her of the kits she and Cesy had played with when they were younger. Not that she would ever share this with him, as she doubted the young man could withstand much more embarrassment before he spontaneously combusted. “I was so busy—” he was floundering now, and Vera did her best to reassure him.

“We enjoyed talking with you too.”

Cesy nodded in agreement. “Fascinating stuff, thank you.”

Some of the tenseness left his shoulders.

“But there are people expecting us.”

“Right. Of course.” He snapped to attention, took stock of the surroundings, and set off quickly, waving them to follow.

A brisk two-minute walk later, they were arriving at a large brown building. A few clone troopers, marked in blue, were milling about the outside. ’37 marched up to one of them and saluted.

“Captain Rex, sir!”

“At ease, trooper.” The man took off his helmet and turned to Vera. “You must be my meeting. Cesy Jobar, correct? I’m Captain Rex.”

Vera stepped forward and shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. However, I’m Vera Jobar, the assistant. This is Cesy.” She gestured toward her cousin next to her. Captain Rex’s eyebrow raised slightly. Vera turned to her cousin to persuade her to come forward, but she wasn’t there. She checked over her other shoulder, and then turned entirely around.

“Oh no.”

~*~*~*~

“Hold it right there!” A clear voice rang out.

Jesse and Tup whirled around, trying to find the source of the sound. It wasn’t an officer, that’s for sure. It wasn’t a clone, and it didn’t have the right cadence to be a Jedi, or even one of the increasingly rare non-clone officers in the army. But this was a restricted area. There shouldn’t be anyone other than their fellow soldiers.

“Wait, no, back up.” At a loss, Tup took a tentative step backwards. Jesse continued to scan for the source of the voice. “You too, big guy.”

Turned out, the source of the voice was a small woman nearly hidden by the shadows of the buildings and a large number of supply crates at the end of the plaza. Her hair waved crazily about her head, she wore no uniform of any sort, and she was holding something small and looking at them appraisingly. This was not good. Jesse reached for his blaster, only to remember that he was on leave and he had left it in the barracks. He certainly wasn’t expecting to apprehend an intruder.

The intruder did not seem the slightest bit concerned about being caught, which only made Jesse more nervous. Was this some kind of distraction for a bigger problem? He looked around as much as he could without drawing his attention away from the woman. “You see anyone else?” he muttered to Tup.

“No.” Tup’s voice was higher than normal and strained. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Stay calm and act natural until we can get a better grip on the situation.”

“ _Nothing about this is natural!_ ” hissed Tup.

Oblivious to their concerns, the woman yelled at them again. “Your energy is excellent! But move left!” The woman gestured, indicating to the troopers they should move to their right.

“Just do it.” Jesse took a large step to his right and Tup followed suit, both of them watching the woman warily.

She didn’t seem pleased. “Well, now it’s—” She put down what she was holding and ran over to them. Jesse tensed, and felt Tup do the same.

A few feet in front of them, she slowed to a stop and put her hands on her hips. “Hm.” She tilted her head to the side and squinted. “I see the problem. You’re too stiff. Try to recapture that state when you were walking a minute ago.”

“Who _are_ you?”

“I’m Cesy Jobar.” She frowned. “You two _are_ 501st, correct?”

Cesy Jobar. It sounded oddly familiar, but Jesse couldn’t place it.

Tup answered her question. “Uh, yes ma’am.”

Jesse cut in. “This area is off-limits to civilians.”

Cesy’s eyebrows shot up. “It is? I’m sorry.” She looked back towards the crates. “I don’t recall seeing any signs though.”

“The whole base is off limits! There are guards!” He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. Was this what the Corrie Guard went through every day? Jesse suddenly found a deeper appreciation for his brothers at the capital.

Understanding dawned on the woman’s face. “Oh. I can be here. I have a badge, look!” She held out the front of her coat, indicating her green visitor’s badge, and stepped closer so they could inspect it. It seemed legit.

“But…why are you here?” Tup asked.

Cesy blinked. “Did no one tell you I was coming?”

Blank stares were her only response. “Ah. Well, in that case,” she gave them a dramatic bow. “Cesy Jobar, at your service.” She straightened. “I’m the artist the GAR commissioned.” She smiled brightly. “And you’re my first subjects! Now, relax and move here.” She grabbed Jesse’s arm and gently pushed him a few inches back to his left.

 _That’s_ where he recognized the name from. “Listen, ma’am, we’re not—"

“The GAR commissioned an artist?” Tup looked intrigued and dare Jesse say…flattered. Ah, to be young.

Cesy grabbed Tup’s wrists and moved him further to the right. She frowned. “Did no one tell you? And elbow up, yes. Perfect.” She stepped back, surveying her work.

Jesse looked over at Tup, whose forearm was now on his shoulder. “You really didn’t know? Did you pay attention to _anything_ at dinner? And get off me.” He roughly shoved his brother’s arm off.

“No, you’re right. It wasn’t right. You have good instincts,” Cesy told Jesse approvingly. “Try this.” She angled him 35 degrees and moved back again.

It hit Jesse then. “Oh, you were too busy mooning over that mechanic.”

Tup flushed. “I was _not_ —”

“It’s still not right.” Cesy reached for Jesse again, but he stepped out of her reach.

“Look, lady, we r—”

“CESY.”

The trio turned towards the end of the plaza, from where another woman was quickly making her way towards them, Fives, Echo, Droidbait, and Cutup trailing behind. The woman did not look happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope to see you soon! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More introductions! Fives is awkward. Echo is embarrassed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me far more trouble than I care to admit, hence the delay. But I think we're good now!

Echo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and resisted the urge to inspect himself for random dirt pieces for a third time. He wasn’t nervous, per se, but…okay, he was nervous. They all were. Droidbait was more silent than normal, and Fives and Cutup were both moving about with pent-up energy.

They were meeting the artist today. Echo didn’t really know what to expect, but he had re-cleaned and re-painted his armor in preparation, as had the rest of his partners-in-crime. Echo surreptitiously checked the time.

“She’s late.”

Rex didn’t even bother looking at his chrono. “I know,” was the sharp response. Punctuality was very important to Rex, which is why they had gone out of the hall to await their guest a full ten minutes ahead of time. It had now been nearly twenty. A hovercart trundled by, kicking up dust. Cutup sneezed; he must not have turned on his helmet filters. Fives kicked a small chunk of duracrete that had been dislodged. It hit the back of Rex’s calf. Fives froze. The captain turned, slowly, and gave Fives a Look that could be seen even through the helmet covering his face.

“Sorry Captain!”

“Watch yourself, trooper.”

“Yessir.”

They’d been with the 501st long enough that for Rex to call any of them “trooper” wasn’t a great sign. Echo switched his comm to a private line. “Fives, what the hell?”

“Oh, like you aren’t bored too.” And nervous, was the unspoken implication.

“Well, keep it together,” Echo shot back, and then closed the line. It wasn’t his best comeback.

Cutup arched his back in a quick stretch. After a moment’s pause, Fives did the same. Cutup took a step to the right. So did Fives. He rose up on his toes and rocked back on his heels. Fives copied him.

“Will you two knock it off?”

They sullenly complied, and there was an uneasy peace for a full thirty seconds before Droidbait spoke up. “Hey, I think that’s them!”

They all turned to look, and saw a sentry quickly walking towards them, a woman hot on his heels.

“Oh, she’s cute,” Fives said. “Dibs.”

Cutup gave a disappointed groan and Echo resisted the urge to shove them both. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

“You’re just mad because I called dibs.”

It was too late for any sort of lecture on professionalism, as they were almost within earshot. Echo didn’t want to be obviously on his internal comm when she came up to them. Besides, and he hated to admit it but there it was, Fives would be a flirt no matter what he did. Perhaps it was ingrained in him at some point during his incubation. And it got worse when he was nervous.

Echo swallowed a laugh at the sudden memory of Fives hitting on General Ti before a particularly intense training run. She had ignored his advances completely, to the point that Echo started wondering if Jedi were so anti-attachment that they didn’t recognize (terrible) flirting when it was literally in front of their face. But as the doors closed, he could have sworn that he saw General Ti start shaking with laughter.

“Captain Rex, sir!” Echo was brought out of his musings by the shiny’s shout. The woman in front of them was very pretty, he had to admit. She was composed and business-like, which did surprise him somewhat based on what Fives had been able to find out. He had expected someone a little more energetic.

The captain introduced himself and the lady did the same, revealing that she was not, in fact, the artist, but the artist’s assistant. A proxy? It would have been nice to have some warning. She introduced the artist then, and Echo had to give her credit. It was pretty difficult to introduce someone who wasn’t even there, but the way she pulled it off you would think that “Cesy” was right next to her.

And then she looked. And looked again. Apparently, she _hadn’t_ known the artist was gone. She looked to the rookie, who had also come to the same realization.

“Did you—”

The rookie shook his head vehemently. “I thought she was right behind me!”

Ms. Jobar sighed. “So did I. It’s not your fault. I should have been watching her better.”

She turned back to them then, still mostly composed, but with a hint of resignation and despair. “I am so sorry, Captain. Both for being late, and then—” She looked over her shoulder, as if expecting the artist to suddenly appear. “Arriving without…” she stopped, setting her lips in a thin line, and Echo had the distinct impression that she was trying not to say anything she would regret. He had felt that same expression on his own face many a time.

“My apologies. I would propose that we simply start without her, but as her presence is integral to our meeting, I’m going to have to beg your patience while I go find her.”

“Couldn’t you just comm her?”

Ms. Jobar looked at Cutup. “That would be an excellent idea, if she ever bothered to bring it with her.” She considered. “I doubt she has it, but it’s worth a try.” She took a commlink from her pocket and attempted to connect. No response. She sighed and returned her comm to her pocket. “As I thought.” She took a step towards Cutup and smiled ruefully at him. “It was a good idea, thank you. I didn’t catch your name.”

It took just a moment too long, but he eventually responded. “Cutup.”

She repeated it, and held out her hand. “Vera Jobar, pleased to meet you.” Somewhat awkwardly, Cutup came forward, shook it, and stepped back once more. Rex took the opportunity to explain that Cutup was one of the 501st representatives she and Cesy would be working with. She looked at him a little oddly at that.

“You won’t be joining us?”

“I’m afraid not. But these men are some of the best.” Echo straightened a bit more at the compliment, while the captain gave a short speech—that was certainly in no way carefully pre-planned—making his excuses as to why he, the captain, was unavailable to represent the legion. In fact, he was due elsewhere in short order, but his men would do an excellent job and were at her disposal. He introduced the rest of them. Echo gave a nod of acknowledgement, as did Droidbait, while Fives took off his helmet and grinned at her, proffering his hand, which she shook.

“Um.” Introductions concluded, the shiny—to be honest, Echo was surprised he was still there—took advantage of a brief pause in the conversation and shifted awkwardly, trying to get Ms. Jobar’s attention, hand hovering near her shoulder. When she turned to look at him he quickly put it back down at his side. “Ma’am, I’d help you look for her, but I have to go back on patrol. I’m late as it is.”

“I understand.” She inclined her head. “Thank you for your help today.”

“You-you’re welcome.“ The shiny stuttered out a response, seemingly suddenly, blindingly aware that he had five superior officers and a pretty lady giving him their full attention. (Well, the lady was. The rest were just watching curiously.) He nodded at her, snapped a salute to Rex, and turned to leave.

“Before you go…” Ms. Jobar opened her coat and reached into an inner pocket. She took out a small, surprisingly sturdy piece of flimsi and handed it to the trooper. “Let me know when you have your name.”

The trooper looked at the little card that had been pressed into his palm in wonder. “Uh, yes ma’am! Thank you, ma’am!” the trooper saluted again, did a sharp about-face, and left.

She watched him go for half a second before turning to Rex. “I understand you have to leave. Do you have my contact details?” Rex told her that he did not, and Ms. Jobar gave him an identical piece of flimsi to the one she had given the trooper. “Just in case you need it. It will be easier to contact me directly than go through the Senate.”

Echo had to concede that point. _Why_ Rex would need to reach her was another matter entirely, one which the captain himself didn’t seem to know the answer to, but he took the card nonetheless. Just then, his comm beeped. Huh. Echo had honestly thought that the captain was full of it when he said he had elsewhere to be, as this _was_ supposed to be their leisure time. Rex excused himself and left, but not before giving the remaining troopers a stern look.

With the captain’s footsteps receding in the distance, there was a slightly tense silence as Ms. Jobar and the clones looked at each other.

“And then there were five.” She broke the silence. “Though there should be six. I still need to find Cesy.”

“We’ll help you look!” Fives offered, a little too enthusiastically in Echo’s opinion.

She considered a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, that would be much appreciated.”

Fives winked at her. “Anything for a pretty lady.” Echo rolled his eyes again, and quickly moved when Fives went to step on his foot without ever taking his eyes off of the assistant.

She explained that Cesy probably had not gone far from where she had last seen her, likely attracted to something or other that the artist found interesting. The difficult part was that what it was that had caught her fancy was anyone’s guess. To find her it might be best to spread out. Droidbait asked what she looked like, which was a valid question.

“Well, she looks like me.” Ms. Jobar stopped and thought over what she had just said. “Perhaps not the extent that you all look similar, but Cesy and I are cousins and both take after our fathers. She’s about yea-high,” she held her hand out, indicating a spot that hit her own ear and wouldn’t even hit the clone’s shoulders. “Short hair. Probably unkempt by now. I’m going to look this way.” Vera pointed back towards the way she had come.

“It’ll probably be faster if we fan out. We’re all able to comm each other, with the exception of yourself, and I’ll go with you, ma’am.” Ms. Jobar turned and gave Echo a grateful smile. Fives gave him a dirty look but shoved his helmet back on.

Then ended up backtracking to where Ms. Jobar remembered seeing her cousin last, and split off from there, intending to work in ever-expanding clockwise circles. As soon as they were out of earshot, Echo spoke.

“Ms. Jobar, I apologize for my brother.”

She looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Now he felt silly for bringing it up. “Oh, you know, Fives.”

Comprehension dawned. “Ah, I see. Don’t worry about it; he’s harmless.” She shook her head dismissively, before continuing to scan for signs of the missing artist. As an ARC trooper himself, Echo wasn’t sure how much anyone else would agree with the assessment of Fives as “harmless,” but he didn’t press the issue.

“And call me Vera; it’s too confusing with two Ms. Jobars.”

Echo faltered. This was really not what he was expecting. He had thoroughly examined the regulation manuals on interactions with civilians, and he was sure that being on a first-name basis was not condoned.

Then again, as his experiences had shown time and time, the regs weren’t the be-all, end-all that he had thought they were as a cadet. “If you’re sure…”

She looked at him expectantly.

“Vera,” he finished. She smiled.

“Good. And you’re Echo, correct?” As he affirmed this, Vera stepped to the side and looked behind a crate.

“Not here. But,” she looked at Echo again, “back to your brother. I’m not concerned, but thank you for noticing. Your compassion shows.”

He felt his color rise and tried to shove it back down, deeply thankful in the moment that he was still wearing a helmet. He cleared his throat. “So, you’re cousins?”

“Yes. We’ve been together as long as I can remember. Let’s check over there.”

Echo’s comm went off. He activated it.

 _“Droidbait here. I think I found her.”_ Beside him, Echo could feel Vera relax.

“Good. Where are you?”

Droidbait told them, and in short order they were all crowded in a small alleyway, leading to a plaza. There were voices from up ahead, both a deep clone’s voice and a higher one.

Vera nodded, thin-lipped. “That’s her all right.” And without further ado, she marched out the passage, yelling at her wayward charge. Wordlessly, the troopers followed her.

Judging by the look on Jesse’s face as they approached, the artist had also been receiving a scolding from him. She seemed entirely unfazed, if not altogether oblivious, greeting the newcomers with a smile and a wave.

“Vera! Took you long enough!”

Vera took a deep, steadying breath. “What are you doing.”

Cesy gestured towards Jesse and Tup. “I was beginning to interview them! The posing needs work but you can help with that later.” She turned to the troopers behind her, pointing at her cousin. “This is Vera! She’s my cousin, and assistant.” She then informed said assistant that Jesse and Tup were the representatives from the 501st.

Vera closed her eyes, took another breath, and opened them. “No. Cesy. These,” she held her hand up, indicating the clones beside her, “are the representatives we are working with.”

Cesy’s face fell. “But—”

Ignoring her, Vera addressed Jesse and Tup. “I apologize for this miscommunication and intrusion in your day. Please, do not feel obligated to stay any longer. I will sort this out.”

“But we _have_ to work with them!” Cesy was adamant.

Echo was morbidly fascinated. Of all the many ways he had expected his day to go, this was both less uncomfortable and far more entertaining than anything he had imagined. _Well_ … he mentally amended, thinking of Fives’ abysmal flirting and watching the two women argue as though the rest of them had disappeared. _It was still pretty uncomfortable._  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interview begins, but is cut short when Fives says something he shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Innuendos? It's meant to be funny but it is ever-so-slightly suggestive if that bothers you. Think somewhere between "Good Luck Charlie" and "Brooklyn 99"

Jesse tightly clenched his jaw. The alternative was to let it drop open, and while he didn’t particularly care what Cesy thought of him (not that anything he had said got through), he didn’t want to look like a gaping fish in front of his brothers. Or the woman—Vera, he remembered—currently arguing with Cesy. He had long lost track of their heated conversation. Right now it seemed to be something about colors.

Echo’s removed his helmet, and Jesse caught his eye. The other trooper was equally bemused.

Sudden silence fell over the clearing. Cesy’s eyes were bright, and she was pointing to her green visitor’s badge. Vera’s color was high, and her expression wasn’t something that Jesse could immediately identify. Her eyes flickered over and met his, and he felt an odd sensation at the base of his spine. It wasn’t painful or unpleasant, but she looked away again and the feeling vanished before he could analyze it further.

“We could-“ Tup glanced at Jesse, who raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t respond. “-work on the project too?”

It was a question. Jesse wasn’t sure if it was posed to him or to the women. He wasn’t sure it mattered.

Cesy looked very pleased at that suggestion, but looked to Vera for confirmation. She pressed her lips together and sighed. “I don’t want to put you out. I realize that you all are sacrificing a portion of your leave to do this. Please know that we very much appreciate it. But I wouldn’t want to inconvenience more of you than I have to.”

“It’s no trouble. We’d be happy to help.” Jesse could not _believe_ what had just come out of his mouth. But then Vera looked at him again and the corner of her mouth twitched up and he realized that it was true. He would be happy to help. He decided not to look too hard at the fact that not five minutes before he would rather have done anything but.

“That would be great.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she looked back towards Echo and the others. “Do you know each other?”

“Pfft. We’re part of the same company. Our squads share barracks,” Fives said. “Bald one’s Jesse, and that’s Tup.” Tup gave an awkward wave, and Jesse a nod. He didn’t like being introduced as “the bald one,” even though it was accurate. He didn’t think it encompassed his most defining features. But Vera didn’t seem to notice or care. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so concerned with what a random woman thought of him.

Cesy clapped her hands together. “Now that we’re all acquainted, we can begin the interview!” Vera opened her mouth as if to say something, but quickly shut it with a snap. Cesy looked Jesse in the eye. “Tell me, when was the last time you had a conversation with the back of your knee?”

Jesse blinked. Had he heard that correctly? Cesy looked at him expectantly. His brow furrowed. “Can you repeat that?”

She did. He had no idea what that meant any better than the last time. “Never, I think.”

“Oh.” Cesy looked disappointed and mildly disturbed. “Well. I suppose that it is no longer in common practice.” Her tone shifted to a more oratorial style, as she turned, gaze encompassing the group at large. “Although _it should be.”_

She turned back to Jesse. “When was the last time you encountered your skeleton?”

There’s no way this chick could be serious. No way. No, no way. But there she stood, still waiting. Vera spoke up. “Cesy, perhaps we should start with some easier questions first?”

Cesy was incredulous. “What question is easier than asking about encountering your skeleton? It’s the perfect icebreaker.”

Jesse disagreed very much with this sentiment, but the way both the women looked hopefully at him made him want to give an answer more satisfactory than the last. “I broke my arm a couple months ago, if that’s what you mean.”

“Not really, but it’s a start.” Cesy bit her knuckle, thoughtfully. “How did that made you feel?”

“It…hurt?” What was happening. Really, _what_ was _happening?!_

Cesy nodded. Vera made a note on her datapad. The artist turned towards the rest of the group. “Anyone else?”

“Well, I’m no medic, but if we’re talking bon _ing_ …”

Jesse couldn’t believe Fives had just said that. From the look of instant regret on Fives’ face, he couldn’t either.

The women looked at each other, something unspoken passing between them. Jesse didn’t know what it was, but the look on their faces intrigued him. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, they turned to look at Fives.

“That’s very interesting. Could you elaborate please?” Vera had her datapad at the ready.

Jesse had _not_ been expecting that. Some awkward laughter? Fives being slapped? Ignoring the comment entirely? Sure. Direct confrontation? No. But this was going to get interesting.

Fives hadn’t been expecting that either. None of the troopers had.

Cesy spoke up next. “Yes, boning, very interesting subject. What are your thoughts on it?”

Fives flushed. “Uh...it’s nice, I guess.”

Vera hummed thoughtfully and made another note. “Expand, please.”

Fives looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. Vera raised an eyebrow. “Your starting comment gave me the impression that you had a great deal to say about the subject. You’re surprisingly ambivalent.”

“Exaggeration isn’t uncommon,” offered Cesy.

“True.” Vera tapped a finger on her ‘pad and tucked it under her arm. “Perhaps further discussion will help you develop your thoughts, Fives.”

“It, um, I—”

Vera interrupted him. “I must confess, I do agree with your general sentiment.” Jesse’s eyes widened, entirely unprepared for this pronouncement. The conversation was quickly turning into a shipwreck. Horrific, yet difficult if nigh on impossible to tear your gaze away from. “How much experience do you have with boning?”

Echo choked. Fives’ face was steadily approaching the color of the Coruscant Guard. “Um. Uh.”

Vera smiled at him, all too innocent. “Now, don’t be shy. We’re all friends here. And be honest. How much?”

“Not…that much,” Fives mumbled.

“I didn’t catch that?”

“Not much.” Fives said this loudly this time, through gritted teeth. Vera made another note.

“Personally,” Cesy said, gesturing to herself. “I’m not much of a fan, but I do understand why people like it.” She tapped Vera’s elbow. “You like boning though, don’t you?”

Vera nodded gravely. “Yes, I do. I would even go so far as to say I have a fair amount of experience with it.” Jesse felt a flush creeping up his neck. He did _not_ need to know this. Why she was sharing it to men she barely knew was...is this what all civilians were like? From the few he’d interacted with he didn’t think so, but he was usually either very drunk or very busy at those times. Or were these two just strange?

Vera, oblivious to Jesse’s consternation, continued to expand on her chosen topic to the group at large. “Boning has to be done well, of course. If done poorly it does more harm than good.” Beside him, Jesse heard Tup make a small strangled noise. Vera ignored this and turned to face Fives again. “I could help you learn more, if you like. It’s surprisingly easy.” She pursed her lips and tilted her head in thought. “Well. It’s simple,” she amended. “No, that’s not quite true; I suppose I’m just far too used to it at this point.” She let out a little laugh. “It’s difficult to do well. But, when well executed, it is very worth it. I could teach you. Would you be interested?”

Jesse thought he must be having a stroke. Was Fives getting propositioned in broad daylight? To say he was horrified was an understatement, but he was also insanely curious as to what would happen next. (There was another, very small part that was ever so slightly disappointed that he was not the one getting the offer, but he would never admit this to anyone, not even himself.)

Fives was struggling to speak. “I…uh…I…”

“You know,” Vera continued, musing. “I must confess that I’m surprised a soldier such as yourself would have such interest in garment-making.” She shrugged. “But what is the galaxy for if not to learn from?”

Fives blinked. “Garment-making?”

Vera frowned. “Yes. The boning. It helps keep the structural integrity of the garment.” She pushed back the lapels of her coat and brushed her hands over her torso. “I’ve actually got some on right now. It’s not incredibly obvious,” she turned to show Fives her side, “but you can see some channels here.” She ran her index finger down her vest, indicating something that Jesse couldn’t see. Fives, still red in the face, was tilting his head in an effort to follow both the turn the conversation took and Vera’s indications. She adjusted her coat again and gave Fives an appraising look. “You seem confused. Why? What did you think I was talking about?”

Fives’ eyes widened, and slowly de-reddening face rapidly went white and immediately cycled back to as red as it could be. “Um.” He looked towards his squad as if they could help him. Echo raised an eyebrow in a way that clearly said “you made your grave, now lie in it.” Jesse hoped Fives wouldn’t turn to him for help. His brain was still trying to process the first half of the conversation. Cesy and Vera exchanged a very smug glance.

The silence was broken, not with a stuttering explanation from Fives, but by Cutup starting to laugh, full and loud. “She…she…” he leaned over, clutching his stomach as if in an attempt to contain himself. “She got you good!” He slapped his thigh and pointed to Fives. “You-you should- you should have seen your fa-a-a-ace!” He doubled over, unable to speak anymore. The others joined his mirth, although not to his extent.

Even Fives gave a few chuckles, before sighing. “I guess I deserved that.”

Vera nodded slightly. “You did.”

“You definitely did!” Cesy had pushed her way in front of Fives and was glaring at him, arms crossed.

“I’m sorry.”

Cesy’s frown disappeared. “Apology accepted!” She reached up and patted Fives’ cheek twice, patronizingly. Fives wasn’t in a position to complain much, his blush still fading, but he clenched his jaw tightly in protest. Upon seeing Fives’ face, Cutup, who had finally stopped laughing, started anew. Cesy nodded at him once, clearly pleased with herself, and left.

“Uh, Cesy. Where are you going?”

The artist stopped and turned around. “Studio. Aren’t you coming? Oh, wait.” She dashed back across the plaza to pick up her nearly forgotten items, stuffing her sketchpad and holorecorder back in her bag. “Okay, _now_ we’re ready.” She came back to the group, pausing in front of Cutup, who was wiping tears from his eyes. “You should consider an infusion of flaxenseed.”

“…What?”

But Cesy had already moved on, and had stepped close to Vera. “How do we get back?” she whispered.

“I don’t know either,” Vera answered lowly. “I had memorized how we got to the Hall but when you wandered off I lost my orientation.”

Fives, sensing both a problem to be solved and a way to make amends, asked them what was wrong. When Vera admitted that neither of them knew the way out—not to mention that there were now too many in their group to take a taxi back to the studio—he had a solution. He knew the way back to the entrance, of course, but if his idea panned out they wouldn’t be going there anyway.

“I bet we can take a speeder.”

“Are you crazy? There’s no way they’ll let us borrow one.”

“And we are _not_ stealing,” added Echo, forcefully.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” said Fives, waving away their concerns. “We’ll just tell them it’s official 501st business!”

Jesse had a flashback to their last leave. “There’s no way anyone will believe that.”

“Well…” Vera said slowly. “We could tell them it’s Senate business. It’s true. And just pretentious enough that they’ll be too annoyed to ask any questions.”

“I knew I liked you!”

  
  



End file.
